


Every Right Thing

by Curlsandcollege



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crest Lore, F/M, Gossip, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Post canon, Talk of infertility, Trying To Conceive, that old faerghus repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlsandcollege/pseuds/Curlsandcollege
Summary: Annette did not, as a rule, fail.The women in Fhirdiad seemed to think otherwise.Gossip was one thing, failure another, but wanting something so, so desperately that the world was determined not to give her was the worst of all.She’ll just have to try harder. She’s always been good at that.Or: Annette struggles to get pregnant, and blames herself.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73
Collections: That Old Faerghus Repression





	Every Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Annette’s a perfectionist and she loves every gossip based topic during tea time. I’m weaponizing that here. 
> 
> Massive trigger warning for talk of possible infertility 
> 
> Title from "Everything Changes" by Sara Bareilles

“You’re a mess, please just let me fix it.”  
  
Annette waged battle with the fasteners of Felix’s cloak. It was a lovely piece, finely engraved with the crest of Fraldarius. Older than either of them by decades.  
  
It was also more fiddly than any spell sigill and for the life of her she could not get both to clip in a straight line.  
  
“Leave it Annette. It’s fine.”  
  
“It’s not fine!”  
  
“I’ll wear something else.”  
  
“Everything else you brought to Fhirdiad is too casual or far too formal. We didn’t pack for this.”  
  
Felix frowned, and Annette could tell he was more confused than upset. Six moons into marriage and they were still working though some of the nuances of being together in peacetime. Annette liked to fuss, liked things to be just right so they were beyond reproach. Felix was learning, slowly, to stay out of her way.  
  
“Mercedes won’t notice.” Felix grasped her hands while she was still attempting to straighten his clasps.  
  
“I’ll notice. Please Felix, let me,” She closed the clasp one last time. “See, I got it.”  
  
“No clasp will fail under your steady hands.” He grasped her hand in his own and lifted it to his mouth. Annette didn’t know how one could kiss someone’s hand sarcastically, but somehow he did.  
  
Annette blushed at his teasing, poking him straight in the chest.  
“You’re impossible.”  
  
He shrugged, “Probably. You look beautiful.” 

* * *

Mercedes was glowing.  
  
She was a perfect, if slightly unconventional, picture of a bride in a fine gown that Annette knew she’d spent far too many late nights sewing. If anyone deserved such a joyful, lovely wedding it was Mercie. 

There were sweets and fine food and delicate arrangements of flowers decorating every surface of the King’s private dining room. It was unlike any wedding Annette attended in the past, far smaller and more casual.  
  
“I’m a little jealous.” Felix murmured into her ear, just quietly enough that she could hear.  
  
Annette shot him a look, “Of what?” Annette knew her husband well, and it certainly wasn’t typical of Felix to express envy of anyone. What could Mercedes and Dedue possibly have that Felix wanted, except the obvious? They hadn’t spoken of it- and they shouldn’t, not here. Not where someone could hear.  
  
“Didn’t know what I was missing.” He said. “If I knew what a commoner wedding was like I would have insisted. And they got to plan it so quickly.” Their own wedding was a grand affair that was a headache of politics and tradition. Hundreds of people attended, rather than the dozen gathered around the cozy table.  
  


“You’re a duke Felix, it’s different.” Annette reminded, unamused. He liked to pretend to forget that sometimes, as if ignoring protocol meant it no longer existed.  
  
“We needed to marry grandly to avoid scandal, they get to marry quickly to avoid one. I get it, I can still be jealous.” Felix said with just the barest edge to his voice.  
  
Annette elbowed him in the side. It wasn’t as if the incredibly small guest list didn’t _suspect_ why Mercedes and Dedue appeared to plan a wedding in two weeks flat. But everyone was too polite to say anything. And if they weren’t, they’d be on the sharp end of a Cutting Gale. Then she’d pull rank so they would have to apologize to _her_. 

  
Annette couldn’t help but be protective of her best friend. Mercie had for far too long lived for anyone but herself. Mercedes was happy. Dedue was happy. They both lost their families and would be able to start anew together. That was beautiful. Rules about the _order_ of such things were asinine anyway.  
  
Mercedes would have a child in the coming spring and that was lovely. They’d all have a baby to spoil, a symbol that life was truly moving on from the war that still haunted them.  
  
Felix was jealous of the way in which the happy couple were married. Annette refused to admit that she was jealous of _why_ they were marrying.  
  
A small, provocative thought appeared at the forefront of Annette’s mind. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it, if her best friend’s child got a built in friend?  
  
They weren’t not trying. They’d been clear with each other from the very beginning that there was no reason to attempt to prevent anything. It was only slightly awkward, both of them blushing as they explained the various versions of _the talk_ they’d been given. 

Sylvain apparently gave Felix a laundry list of methods of varying efficacy in an embarrassing drunken conversation. Mercedes mentioned offhandedly a few times that there were near foolproof ways to prevent children coming before they were ready. Oh this plant and that tea and these signs and _perhaps there might be some spells if you’re interested Annie_. Though, obviously, the _near_ in near foolproof was quite clear given Mercedes’ condition.

They decided the advice was not needed, settling on a simple “What happens, happens.” Still, if there was anything Annette knew how to do, it was to try. She and Felix both liked children. They wanted children, whenever it happened for them. 

  
Soon wouldn’t be so bad. 

It settled pleasantly into her mind’s eye- Her and Mercie, mothers together. Two little girls, one tall with light hair and dark skin, the other her complete opposite, practicing magic together and getting into all kinds of trouble.  
  
There was never any harm in trying a little harder.  
  
Felix laughed at her eagerness back in their rooms. Annette tried to defend herself, not slowing down as she unlaced, unbuckled, and unbuttoned everything that held them apart, “Weddings are romantic, Felix.” 

  
“You can just admit wine makes you horny.” Felix teased, “I’m not complain-ahh” he sucked in a sharp gasp of breath that let Annette know that he was absolutely done talking for the evening. 

* * *

Felix did not appreciate a leisurely morning walk. Well, it might be more accurate to say that Felix did not appreciate _leisure_.  
  
They’d found a compromise to begin their days together. There was a lovely path between the house and the training grounds, and if Annette woke early enough she could accompany Felix to his training before attending to her own duties for the day. 

The weather this morning was unseasonably clear with a fantastic absence of fog rolling in off the coast. Appreciating the gorgeous morning, Annette decided to take the long way around the castle. It wouldn’t be unheard of for her to enter through the kitchens, grab whatever ingenious pastry the chef created to satisfy her sweet tooth, and bolt off to whatever engagements she scheduled.  
  
Improper, sure, but Felix ran a notoriously informal household before she arrived. Annette was considered the improvement. 

A tinkle of laughter attracted her attention- two women were collecting laundry off of lines outside the kitchen door.  
  
“Poor thing, and you hear things work faster in love matches.” The first voice laughed.  
  
The response chided with an equal bit of humor, “Oh they’re young, they have time yet. Let them enjoy each other.”  
  
“I believe _enjoying_ each other would do the trick, yes?”   
  
“Oh you’re awful.”  
  
Annette smiled despite herself. This kind of gossip was harmless fun that could help pass the time. Another member of the staff was marrying every other week it seemed- they could be talking about any number of maids. Though Annette had a few prime candidates in mind, she kept on her path, hoping to catch a few more details before they noticed her.  
  
The problem, of course, with being the duchess Fraldarius was that rooms became unsettlingly quiet when she entered. It was terribly difficult to hear any good rumors these days. 

“The former duchess bore her oldest just shy of her first wedding anniversary.”  
  
“Well… even you can do the sums to know that won’t happen.” 

  
“Well you know, not surprising given her family.”  
  
“Ah! Her uncle is a _baron_.”  
  
They dissolved into laughter once again and Annette felt the blood rush to flush her face, each noise a projectile on her ears.  
  
Far too overwhelmed as she processed their words, Annette froze on the path. Then she turned heel back the way she came hoping desperately they wouldn’t see her. 

They were gossiping about her.  
  
About how she wasn’t pregnant.  
  
And they were laughing.  
  
Annette tried her best to calm the storm of nerves that built up in her stomach, humming the opening notes to _The Box Song_.  
  
“If you take all the b-b-bad” She started but hot tears welled up in her eyes and choked her. She stopped in an archway, placing her face against the cool stone. Even deep, slow breaths couldn’t calm the flood. 

Annette heard the gossip mill in Fhirdiad her whole life. She _liked_ to gossip. It was a fun game- The mystery of what was happening behind closed doors. It wasn’t an ideal or even a nice pastime but her curiosity got the best of her. Eavesdropping was generally pretty easy as long as she could keep her clumsiness in check.  
  
The best gossip, of course, was from servants. She was definitely not supposed to listen to that, but that didn’t stop her. Nearly every interesting rumor she heard as a child came from maids who couldn’t keep their voices down.  
  
Annette knew the usual patterns for married women.  
  


There was a grace period for wives. At first, things were all speculation. When would it happen? It was talk of hope, and excitement. Every sour stomach, headache, or lay-in a possible sign of pregnancy.  
  
However, there was a moment, undefined when the gossip became _if_ it would happen. Derision. Whose fault? Were they even trying? 

Annette hadn’t realized the gossip turned on her. All at once she was a failure for not falling pregnant the moment the castle needed some new diversion. 

  
Did she not get a year? Not one year to enjoy being married before she was failing expectations?  
  
A rush of shame fell over her. She’d admit that every moon she felt the tiniest bit of disappointment when her courses arrived, but that always passed. She was busy. There were things to do. She did not need to become a mother. Not yet.  
  
She wasn’t opposed, it just hadn’t happened yet. She thought that wasn’t a problem. Fraldarius was poised to have its best harvest in a decade this fall, the fishing season was successful, roads and buildings were being repaired at incredible rates. She thought she was doing _well_ at being a duchess.  
  
There was just the matter of the single most important duty of her position. And on that, seven moons into her marriage, she was apparently a resounding failure. Already.  
  
Annette did not fail as a rule. Not herself. Not others.  
  
Shaking, she ran her hand down her face, trying to wipe the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help. Motherhood was one of a thousand ongoing projects. A vague notion for future Annette.  
  


Future Annette had a gaggle of beautiful dark haired boys who got into all sorts of trouble around the castle. Who would be perfectly imperfect, allowed to have their own flaws, not derided for every mistake.  
  
Current Annette had a winter to plan for and people to keep fed.  
  
She told herself it didn’t matter. Fingers balled into fists, nails digging into palms. The sharpness helped her clear her head. No need to be upset. The gossip didn’t matter. She could be pregnant right now. Felix got it in his head that lovemaking was like training and he could somehow hold himself to a standard of constant improvement.  
  
Annette wasn’t complaining. 

It could happen any day. She would prove them wrong.

* * *

If Mercedes’ wedding was _lovely_ , Sylvain’s was _loud_. The Gautiers were a famously cold and formal house, and Annette was pretty certain Sylvain’s mission for that evening was to destroy that reputation forever.  
  
In addition to getting married of course. Dorothea planned the wedding during the off season of the Mittlefrank company so her opera friends could come. Artists, as it turned out, were incredibly fun at parties. She’d never seen so much singing at a wedding before. There were new dances and exotic foods brought in from Adrestia- Dorothea’s open disdain for bland Faerghan food was well known at this point.  
  
Mercedes and Dedue would have loved the menu, in their own quietly appreciative ways.  
  
It made her little sting of loneliness all the worse. Mercedes couldn’t come, too pregnant to travel so far north. Even in Autumn a snow could bury Gautier at a moment’s warning. Best to skip the festivities.  
  
Felix, as Sylvain’s First Man, was dragged out of the party early, leaving Annette to navigate the wedding alone.  
  
Various nobles of Fodlan approached politely, hoping to talk trade deals without her dour husband, but realized quickly that Annette being the more easygoing Fraldarius did not make her a pushover by any means. Ashe was dancing with Petra, Lysithea couldn’t come. Dimitri was off somewhere private with Marianne, Hilda acting as some kind of chaperone in Dedue’s absence.   
  
It was hard to imagine in such a crowded room that she could ever feel alone but Felix by her side was such a given these days it was odd to navigate something without him. He always acted like she was his secret weapon at formal events, but he made her feel just as safe and powerful.  
  
Now, without him, she just felt like a wallflower.  
  
Her mind played out a hypothetical conversation with Mercedes as she crossed the room seeking sugar. She would have had strong opinions on the dessert spread.

A familiar voice caught her attention, “You know, I’m taking a tally of every person at this wedding to whom the groom has proposed.” Linhardt said, apropos of nothing. He seemed to simply appear behind Annette at the dessert table.  
  
A broad smile broke out across her face and a familiar friendship pattern resumed despite over a full year apart, “It is lovely to see you too Linhardt.” And it was. He’d apparently taken up some work at Garreg Mach a few moons ago- but she hadn’t seen him since the war ended.  
  
He nodded, returning her excitement with a halfhearted curl of the lips, “Ah yes, it has been a while. As I was saying, it was Dorothea’s idea.”  
  
“Dorothea wants you to find out how many women here Sylvain has proposed to?” That didn’t sound like her- Dorothea was happy to make jokes about Sylvain’s sordid history but was also quite insistent to leave the past in the past.  
  
“No. It’s for my own edification. It is a small task, but an amusing one. More engaging than dancing. She insisted I was required to attend, despite my reservations.”  
  
“Reservations?” As far as Annette knew Linhardt and Dorothea were incredibly close. They certainly liked leaving magic practice together to go do nearly anything else. Maybe he didn’t like balls where there were expectations of staying up past a certain hour?  
  
“Well I said I thought it would be inappropriate for me to attend, considering I’d previously proposed to the bride.” He explained.  
  
“Not like you to care about inappropriate,” She mumbled good naturedly as his words connected. “Wait what? You proposed… To Dorothea?” 

Linhardt nodded, “At the end of the war. She was unsure of her next steps and I realized I knew a solution. I offered my family title.”  
  
Annette’s jaw dropped, _no one_ heard about this? When? Why? “But you abandoned your title. You’ve been… Well I'm not sure where you’ve been. But certainly not Adrestia.”  
  
“I offered to stay, inherit, grant the title to her through marriage. I thought it was an elegant solution. I’d be under no further pressure to marry and could focus on my research, she’d have a suitable noble house. She said no, of course.” He sounded shockingly calm but Annette’s heart broke. Linhardt liked Dorothea? And kept it a secret? 

“I didn’t realize you loved Dorothea.” She sat on her impulse to hug him, trying to comfort more appropriately, “Oh, this must be hard for you.” 

“Loved?” Linhardt sounded surprised and his eyebrows knit together, “No. I do not… It would be a companionable marriage. She is a dear friend. I am not opposed to marriage as a tool. I don’t think I’d be bothered to do it otherwise.” 

Yes, Linhardt’s mercenary views on marriage came screaming back to her. “I do remember you hiding from Seteth in the library when some untoward things you said to Flayn came out.”  
  
He pushed his hair out of his face, not at all embarrassed that he’d asked Flayn to have _several_ children with him, “Well I was curious! Your country keeps such strong records of crest inheritance and lineage and I’ve _still_ not found the results of a major and minor crestholder of the same crest marrying.”  
  
“Well they’d be related, most likely, wouldn’t they?” Annette asked.  
  
“That’s certainly an issue with Elite’s crests, you’re all distant cousins. Your country really should relax its propriety standards, it would be better for crest diversity. But two crestholders married at all is rare enough to pique my interest. My suggestion to Flayn was likely misguided, as it turns out.” Linhardt’s tone wasn’t apologetic enough to suggest he was _sorry_ for asking Flayn to have a half dozen children with him.  
  
Meaning this was about _research_. And much as Annette enjoyed the topic, Linhardt’s interest in crests could be overly callous at times. He liked to pretend crests were separate from the people who carried them, and treat them as such. Something in his tone centered on dangerous- he’d discovered something he was burning to tell her. Much as Linhardt burned about anything. 

  
“Linhardt I have no clue what you’re saying but I think I’m about to be very mad.” For her sake? For Flayn’s? Unclear but the annoyance was prickling under the surface.  
  
Linhardt laughed as if they were sharing a private joke, but crossed his arms, asking, “How often do you see a crested family overrun with children?”  
  
The question struck her as odd but she thought back. She was an only child, and a skipped generation at that. The Dominics were never a large house. It dawned on her, “Almost never.” 

“Correct. One child, maybe two. Usually fairly spaced apart.” 

There was something about someone pointing out something _so_ obvious that made Annette feel a little stupid, “I never thought about that.” 

“I’ve merely defined the phenomenon lately as I’ve had access to many family records and Hanneman’s research after the war.” He paused for a moment, and when Annette nodded in understanding he continued, “Adrestian Emperors took many consorts to attempt to have crested children, but the large families were also shows of power in a way. Their consorts, notably, were never crested.” 

“Oh…” Something clicked, as she realized the actual point to what Linhardt was saying. “So you think two crests will make things harder?”  
  
“Maybe not if the crest is shared, but for opposing crests, I know it will. In fact, you’re not pregnant are you?” He asked casually, eyeing her midsection.  
  
She looked at him miserably, trying to maintain her composure as her mind screamed out _no, no I’m not, and I never will be_. It wouldn’t do to get mad in the middle of such a nice night. Linhardt didn’t always realize that his facts and theories and experiments actually carried feelings and weight for the people they were about.  
  
He knew it would be harder for her to get pregnant, apparently, but didn’t have any sympathy for what that actually meant for her.  
  
He spoke again. “Ah. That was rude.” A statement, rather than an apology, “Still, I imagine you’ll be quite sick at first. Your body will not be used to carrying two crests.”  
  
Finally Annette felt like she was on equal ground with him, and she clung to the piece of information that she already knew, “Right. Felix’s crest is more likely to pass on to our children.”  
  
She popped a small cake into her mouth, using the dessert as a way to buy time to form her words carefully with Linhardt. He would not catch her off guard this time.  
  
Linhardt yawned before he answered, “Yes, with a major crest that is for certain. There are no records indicating otherwise. You will tell me if you’ve become pregnant, won’t you?” 

So much for her plan. The cake lodged in her throat and Annette coughed unbecomingly for air. Linhardt patted her on the back unhelpfully. When she could finally catch her breath wheezed out, “Why?”  
  
“For research of course.” Then he smiled, “And we are friends, I’d like to be happy for you. Lower odds have never stopped you from success before.” 

There was no response to his evaluation of her other than a stammered, “That’s… kind.” And it was. They were friends for more than just a mutual love of magic. Linhardt only cared when he wanted to, it felt nice to be chosen. 

“Yes, well, back to my tally.” He straightened out, gazing at her expectantly. Done with sentiment for the evening then.  
  
“Yes, Sylvain once proposed to me in jest when I let him study my reason notes.” The memory stuck out fondly in her mind, she’d been so angry about it at the time. 

He met her smile, “In jest absolutely counts.” 

* * *

Gautier castle seemed designed to confuse, and without Ingrid’s alongside her to navigate she probably would have walked in circles for an hour.  
  


They bid each other goodnight in front of Ingrid’s room, and Annette counted the doors until she recognized her room at last. Her feet were throbbing and Annette looked forward to throwing her slippers halfway across the room before crawling into the overly large bed. Typical post-ball activities.  
  
Well, minus one typical post-ball activity. Drinks and dancing tended to inspire something in her, weddings were romantic after all, but that would be less fun alone. 

  
Felix would likely be off all night given Sylvain and Dorothea’s love of needling her husband. Lovingly, of course. Felix gave as good as he got when it came to Sylvain. Annette didn’t understand it at all, the teasing and one-upmanship that defined their relationship.  
  


She and Mercedes were good at different things. They cheered for each other. They weren’t so quick to point out each other’s flaws, but liked to play up their strengths. Annette could talk about reason for hours. Mercedes preferred faith.  
  
Mercedes was skilled at baking, and Annette was just as likely to make a mess than a successful cake. Annette could study and memorize for hours, but Mercedes was more likely to end up daydreaming if left to her own devices.  
  
Mercedes was about to be a mother and Annette, married twice as long, wasn’t.

A disappointed tightness started to form in her chest and she shook her head. She was happy for Mercedes. Deep down the seeds of jealousy were growing stronger by the day. That didn’t have to impede her happiness, she reminded herself. Mercedes was going to be a wonderful mother. She was older than Annette, it was her time. It wasn’t Annette’s. That was fine.  
  
A small, petty voice in the back of her head reminded her Mercedes hadn’t even tried- in fact, she’d actively attempted to prevent it. It felt profoundly unfair.  
  
Her uncle used to tell her if she whined about things that the world was unfair, and it was far fairer to Annette than many others.  
  
Annette was in a loving marriage, with a man she chose. She was a _duchess_ for Serios sake. She was crested and wealthy and safe. Everyone she loved survived the war. Her parents were back together. Her life was so rich, so much more than she’d hoped for.  
  
She’d only been married a year. _Mercedes was pregnant before she was married_. She was competing at a disadvantage, apparently, due to her crest. _Mercedes’ mother had two crested children_. She had all the time in the world to have children. _Mercedes’ child would be too old to play with hers if it didn’t happen soon._  
  
She told herself she was being silly. She could want children but jealousy was selfish.  
  
Annette was many things, but she was not selfish.  
  
She also wasn’t above self pity.  
  


She swallowed the beginning tears that collected in the corners of her eyes as she reached for the door- Resigned to have a little cry before she went to sleep.  
  
Annette jumped as she entered the bedchamber- Felix was pacing the room, running through what looked suspiciously like brawler forms.  
  


“You… You’re back.” Annette’s surprise was absolutely clear in her voice. Felix shouldn’t be back for an hour at least, if not much later.  
  
Felix let out a groan of aggravation and kept punching an invisible enemy. “You will not believe what he did. If it weren’t his wedding I would have killed him.” 

Given it was Sylvain, it could genuinely be any number of things. Annette prepared herself to join Felix in a cathartic bout of anger- easier than the sadness that she was quickly wiping out of her eyes before he saw, grateful for the darkness of the bedroom. Felix worried too much about her when she was upset.  
  
She didn’t need to trouble him.  
  
“What did he do Felix?” Standing off to the side gave him a wide berth to keep moving. Felix wasn’t the best at explaining himself in these situations, movement was so much easier for him than words. She almost laughed, grateful for the distraction.  
  
“He… Ugh.” Felix kicked at the air in bare feet, and Annette mentally catalogued who was in the room next to them. Dimitri, presumably. Not asleep yet, most likely. No need to stop Felix or ask him to quiet down. He’d get the energy out faster this way.  
  
Felix found his words, “Sylvain’s room is a singular room all the way at the top of the castle. We climb the stairs and I’m dreading whatever is about to happen because it’s Sylvain and it’s…” Felix trailed off, too angry to speak. Annette felt half grateful he was still walking through fighting forms. At least she could hear his breathing.  
  
She tried to help him, filling in the rest of the story, “He’s not going to let it just be a formality.”  
  
“He shouldn't even need a first man.” Felix scoffed, “Everyone knows they’ve slept together.”  
  
“Right. And it’s not like in Fraldarius where we have a sitting room. So either you’re sitting out in the hall or…” Annette paused, realization dawning. Sylvain could be such an ass.   
  
The role of the First Man was performative, a formality, for years. It had been decades since a First Man actually went inside to _witness_ a consummation. They just signed papers verifying it happened and the marriage was made legal.  
  
Felix turned to Annette, and seeing her understanding simply said, “Exactly. He opens the door and I’m already about to kill him because he’s so smug and happy.”  
  
Annette half wanted to point out that a man should be happy on his wedding night, but didn’t think it would be terribly productive. 

“He said that the papers are on his desk and he wanted me to use his favorite ink. He does not have a favorite ink.”  
  
“So you have to go inside to sign them and verify.” Annette clarified. 

Felix continued fighting as he recounted the whole ordeal, and Annette stared, half worried his crest might trigger because he was getting terribly worked up, “Then he asks me to make him a stupid promise and when he finally let’s me sign the papers he…” another punch, “Comes up and whispers in my ear that they’d consummated their marriage earlier that morning and I’m free to go. I didn’t need to know that.”  
  
Felix released a few more kicks before collapsing on the floor in an undignified heap, panting for air. This was the exact kind of thing she assumed Sylvain would do to Felix. This was well within their normal antics. She knew Felix’s violent stewing was more for show, part of the game.  
  
The story would have ended on the training grounds, otherwise. Half a pity, it would make the Gautier wedding live in even more infamy. 

For such a detailed story, he glossed over something. Annette felt her interest spike, “What did he make you promise?” 

“Stupid shit about inheritance of our…” Felix clapped his mouth shut, squeezing his eyes tightly as if Annette would disappear or he suddenly would not have said what he just said. His tension made Annette terribly curious.  
  
“Of your what?” Annette asked sweetly, approaching her husband who has finally stopped moving.  
  
“Sylvain and I have a death pact.” Felix mumbled, red faced from far more than the exercise. 

  
“You have a _what?”_ Annette truly did not want to laugh because Felix was clearly so embarrassed to be admitting such a thing. She knew she probably shouldn't find the idea of her husband having a _death pact_ with his best friend so funny.  
  
It didn’t keep it from being absolutely hilarious. A _death pact?_ Felix threatened to kill him at least thrice a year. 

“We made it when we were kids.” He protested, clarifying, “We promised we’d live together until we died together. It was stupid.”  
  
Annette was well aware of how easily her husband blushed, and just how far down he could flush. Her fingers itched to start pulling away at his collar to see if her suspicions were true.  
  
“Stupid enough that you’re honoring it as adults?” She asked, beginning to undo the claps on his jacket. Yes he was definitely blushing down his neck.  
  
She could hear him roll his eyes as he said, “Stupid enough that Sylvain wants me to promise that our heirs will need to be similarly tied.” 

Annette’s hands stilled at the word heirs, and suddenly his embarrassment felt less fun. The whole story soured. Not funny at all. Her feelings circled back to the murky fear she thought she’d moved past. Sylvain and Dorothea wouldn’t have trouble having heirs. Not like her.  
  
Felix slid his hands over hers, adding at her silence, “I told him that was stupid.”  
  
“It is stupid.” Annette agreed. The contact felt good. She eyed his half undone jacket, deciding she should continue, try to distract herself. Pretend everything is okay.  
  
Felix half smiled, “Anyway, Mercedes’ kid will probably be attached at the hip to ours anyway, if you have anything to stay about it.” 

“Ours.” The words caught in her throat. 

“I mean eventually.” 

“Right.” She said quietly, trying to curl her lips up into a smile that her heart couldn’t form. Why wouldn’t he think they’d have children one day? He was always the more reasonable of the two of them. A year of failure didn’t weigh on him like it did her- he probably didn’t think they’d failed at all. She wouldn’t be the one to tell him. There was no reason to bother Felix with her jealousy or her anxiety or anything at all.  
  
Felix worried, deeply, and he ruminated and fell quiet and angry until he could fix things.  
  
 _Felix can’t fix this_. _It’s you_.   
  
Annette knew what happened to wives of nobles who couldn’t have children. 

She took just a second too long to respond and Felix noticed her apprehension. 

Felix sat up, leaning on an arm as his eyes met hers, “Did I say something wrong?” She could see his forehead begin to wrinkle with concern.  
  
“No.” Not really. She deflected, trying to get him talking again, “So did you agree to his terms?”  
  
“I told him there was no need, since I’ll inevitably kill him one day.” He smiled, and she realized this was what amounted as a joke from him. He was trying to make her feel better.  
  
“And what was Dorothea doing during all of this?”  
  
“Laughing.” Felix frowned and Annette couldn’t help but smile at his surliness. He was clearly not really mad at Sylvain, not anymore, but anger was always easiest for Felix. Deep down under the antics he was probably feeling something more affectionate. 

  
“I’m happy for them.” Annette said definitively, voicing the thing she knew he would struggle to say. Dainty fingers resumed the work of removing his layers.   
  
“They’re obnoxious.” Felix protested, heart not in it as he shrugged off his jacket at last. 

“They’ll keep things interesting.” She argued as she began to lift his shirt over his head.  
  
Felix conceded her point, “Sylvain doesn’t screw up on purpose when Dorothea’s around. That’s an improvement.” 

He sat up fully, reaching around to grab Annette by the waist. He was still terribly warm and his hands burned even through the thick fabric of her gown.  
  
“I need help getting out of this.” She said gently, admitting the problem before she struggled to unlace something she couldn’t see.  
  
“Do you need help or _help_?” Felix asked casually, letting his suggestion linger in the air as his thumbs ran along her sides. Events like this wound him up. There was a routine, a dance to things. They were still newlyweds, in a way, and there was a novelty to new places.  
  


Annette still felt the sour prickles of distress back in her mind and for a moment thought about telling him that it was late and she was tired. He’d take her _no_ just fine, he always did. And he’d defeated a dozen imaginary soldiers, he’d certainly be able to find rest even without any additional activity.   
  
On the other hand his hands were so warm and the idea of watching him get frustrated while trying to do the complicated lacing on her formalwear was, frankly, _nice._  
  
Annette didn’t really want to be in her head much longer and Felix was always incredibly up to that challenge. 

“The fun kind of help.” Annette flirted, leaning in to press her lips against his. His embrace was comforting and, yes, genuinely fun. It was easy to get lost in the moment of passion and pleasure without focusing on outcomes and trying and expectations.  
  
No. Those things came rushing back after. 

Later Annette realized with horror that there was a slight chance that she could have a child conceived in _Gautier_. Sylvain would do the math. It would be a _thing_. 

Horror faded into a fond, hazy amusement. 

If it worked this time, she’d admit the circumstances publicly and proudly. If only it would work. 

* * *

  
Basil Molinaro was the cutest child Annette had ever laid eyes on. At four moons old he was already nearly half the length of Annette’s body, squirming and shrieking up at everything. 

“He’s doubled in size since the last time I saw him.” Annette marveled, hoisting him up into the air. She’d made a brief trip right after he was born, and the gap between visits felt cavernous. This was a completely different baby. Mercedes was practically in shock last time they’d been together.  
  
Annette’s jealousy subsided briefly into adoring happiness for her friend. Then her mind was soothed, each letter reminding her that having a child was _hard_ and _time consuming_ and _life changing_. 

Now Mercedes seemed comfortable, living up to the motherly quality everyone placed on her.  
  
One tiny smile from Basil and Annette remembered just how much she loved children. How appealing motherhood was not just because it was expected but the painful longing to have one of her own.

She was fairly certain Mercedes would need to pry Basil out of her arms. She certainly wasn’t giving him up.  
  
Mercedes laughed, smiling fondly, “He’s always been big. It’s funny, nobody questioned when he came 'early' because Dedue is so tall.” 

Annette laughed at her implication as something old tingled at her mind, “I used to hear people talk about how the first children always came early, but the rest exactly on time. I always laughed along but I never _got_ it.” 

“You gossip.” Mercedes teased, just as guilty of the monicker, “You know my memory, if I get the moons wrong no one is going to question me.” Mercedes said self deprecatingly. 

  
Basil squirmed and nestled his face into Annette’s chest and Mercedes giggled as she noticed,“Sweetheart there’s nothing for you there.”  
  
If Annette were holding anything less precious than a child she would have dropped him from the shock. Nothing for him. He was looking for his mother. Any mother. Just not her.  
  
Annette tried to refocus, “I’m just amazed you’ve gotten away with it. I can’t sneeze in Fhirdiad without people talking about it.”  
  
“No one’s said anything yet, thankfully. And you know how court is with…” Mercedes face dropped and she reached out to smooth Basil’s white hair. “People are looking for ways to criticize us. They gossip about us plenty.”  
  
Not as far as Annette knew. She kept in touch with friends from growing up who went on to marry royal knights themselves, they were happy so share what they heard. There were some criticisms about how Dedue received favorable treatment from Dimitri, how they spent too much time changing the royal gardens, and how there were crest testers in after Basil was born. Nothing that was actually damning.   
  
As far as Annette heard, Mercedes and Dedue were considered an oddity, but a tame one. And frankly, it wasn’t fair.  
  
Everyone gossiped about Annette and she hadn’t done anything at all. Her whole life she’d been a brilliant overachiever but say some vows to a duke and suddenly there were dozens of tongues wagging. Their arrival in Fhirdiad made it worse. Every move Felix made at council somehow came back to how they weren’t doing their job. How _she_ wasn’t doing her job.  
  
Maybe if her uncle was a count or a lord or a margrave the taunts would feel less cruel- or at least be more creative.  
  
“Nobody even knows he’s crestless.” Annette said, squishing Basil’s cheeks together, eliciting a smile.  
  
Mercedes gave her an odd look, “Well they know exactly that. Few know that I’m crested outside of our inner circle.” 

Annette sighed at the notion of being able to actually keep a secret from court, “You’re so lucky to get to keep your private business private.” 

“What do you mean by that Annie?” Mercedes took another sip of her tea, placing it down just a little too loudly.  
  
Annette shrugged, “Nobody’s paying attention to you that closely. It seems like you could do just about anything and hide it. It’s easier, you’re lucky.”  
  
Mercedes frowned and her voice tightened, “Annie keeping things private is what keeps us safe and I work very hard at it. I don’t appreciate you talking like this.” 

“Talking like what?” Annette asked, trying to get Basil to smile at her again.  
  
“Like you want people to talk about me.” Annette looked up and realized that Mercedes was holding her lips together tightly, the way she did when she held her tongue in anger at Lorenz back at school.  
  
Her face grew hot with the understanding that objectively, Annette was the worst friend in the world. Mercedes had been uprooted so many times because of her crest, hidden the information unless asked directly. Dimitri didn’t stand for people to say disparaging things about Duscur publicly- but there was always an element of distrust through everyone at court. Any other man who had saved the King’s life so many times would be heralded as a hero of ages… Dedue was merely tolerated because of his service and people acted like they were doing him a favor.  
  
She knew that. She knew all of that.  
  
Annette stammered out apologies, “No, wait. I didn’t mean,” She had. She absolutely did because she was jealous and awful and wasn’t thinking about anyone’s problems but her own. She swallowed her pride and said “I’m sorry.” 

Mercie was her best friend in the whole world, so instead of continuing to be angry she gave her a soft look and asked, “Are you okay?”  
  
Mercedes might understand. Mercedes was also raised with the expectation that she would get married and create crested heirs above all other responsibilities all day. Mercedes probably heard what other women said about her while she was off in Fraldarius.  
  
Basil began to fuss and Mercedes came over and scooped him out of her arms, shushing him as he began to wail.  
  
She didn’t even looked phased as she held a screaming baby in her arms, “I think he needs to nap, it’s going to take me a moment to get him back down.”  
  
Annette watched in amazement as Mercie walked around the room, humming gently as he continued to scream in her face. The guilt began to swallow her once again. Mercedes had so many more things to worry about than Annette’s insecurities.  
  
Annette was so caught up in her reputation she’d ignored the bitter core of anxiety. She didn’t want to fail. She didn’t want people to talk about her.  
  
More than that, she longed desperately to be a mother and the ache worsened with every moon.   
  
And she wasn’t sure she could. The truth sunk in with heavy awfulness, clawing at her stomach as her embarrassment left her too hot and uncomfortable. 

  
Mercedes couldn’t fix it, and she didn’t need to watch Annette have a breakdown in her sitting room. 

She already had one crying baby to take care of. 

Annette began to gather up her dishware hastily, “I should let him rest. Right. I’ll see you at dinner then?”  
  
“Wait, Annie.” Mercedes called out.  
  
Annette pretended she didn’t hear over Basil’s crying, making her exit gracelessly out into the hallway of Fhirdiad palace.  
  
Why had she done that? She almost turned back and reentered the rooms, armed with better apologies.  
  
But then it would go back to _why_ Annette had been so cruel.  
  
Mercedes did not need to understand Annette’s jealousy. That wasn’t her burden to bear.  
  
She could go wallow for a bit back in her own room, and then apologize properly at dinner.  
  
Mercedes did not need to know about Annette’s problems. 

* * *

The thick wooden door of their Fhirdiad room did little to muffle the voices inside. Wallowing plans would need to be shelved to greet whoever her husband was entertaining, and seemingly arguing with based on the tenor.  
  
It felt foolish to knock on her own door, still, alerting someone to her presence felt polite. Also safer, given how easily her husband could be startled. Not all scars were physical.  
  
She took a deep breath, centering herself, hoping she didn’t look absolutely wrecked. That it was someone she could gracelessly ignore or kick out or who would drag Felix away so she could feel properly bad about what she’d done to Mercedes. 

The argument continued as she opened the door, Ingrid red faced with anger as Felix rubbed his temples in frustration. 

“It’s not that easy.” Felix said tightly. 

“If someone would just talk to him,” Ingrid began, taking a breath to continue her lecture. 

Felix had been her friend for too long, cutting her off before she started, “He’s well aware of the risks, he refuses to do anything about it. He’s never had any regard for his own safety.” 

“It’s not _his_ safety. It’s for the good of Fodlan. The advisors want _stability_ and without-” 

  
Felix interrupted, “He’s not that stupid. He knows. Talking to him isn’t going to make him rush.” 

Annette’s attempt to quietly cross the room was foiled by a thickly woven rug, and both faces turned. Felix’s frown broke for just a moment until Ingrid spoke again.  
  
“Annette can _you_ make Felix talk some sense into His Majesty?” Ingrid looked incensed, as if they’d been arguing about this for hours.  
  
Council, seemingly, had not gone well.  
  
“Talk sense about what?” Annette asked, not quite following the conversation. 

“The council members, who are not wrong, are worried that if something happened to His Majesty there could be another war if he doesn’t have-” 

“Ingrid, heirs do not appear out of thin air.” Felix said sharply.  
  
“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. I know that.”  
  
“He doesn’t want to throw a lavish wedding while half the region’s farmland is untended. It’s not a priority.”  
  
“Felix if Dimitri dies without an heir we’re going to go to war while Rufus’ bastards fight it out, and, by the way, you’d probably end up being regent in the time being if not king all together.”  
  
“Well I don’t have an heir either so maybe we should stop thinking about _succession_ and just keep things stable enough that nobody _kills our king,_ Lady Galatea.” 

Ingrid had some argument back that Annette couldn’t hear over her own thundering heartbeat. 

_I don’t have an heir_. 

All this time she assumed Felix just hadn’t noticed. He missed details like the passage of time, or protocol sometimes. He certainly didn’t listen to gossip. They didn’t talk about it, they were married a year and a half and still had no children on the horizon. 

All this time her mind focused on the personal failure- she’d been too self absorbed to realize that it was literally dangerous for them, for Fraldarius, to have no one to pass the title onto. Fodlan stood at a shaky peace, Felix could be called upon to put down a rebellion at any time. If things became truly bad, she could be called to war.  
  


What if something happened to one of them? 

And that wasn’t even accounting for crests. What if she finally had a child and they couldn’t even inherit? Fraldarius wielded a relic, a crest was absolutely necessary. 

Annette stumbled for a chair, gripping the arm as she tried to hide her collapse under the guise of her clumsiness.  
  
“Would work Annette?” Ingrid’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, but given the expectant look on Ingrid’s face she’d clearly missed the beginning of the question.  
  
Annette swallowed, her mouth too dry to speak, “Sorry, say that again?”  
  
“Do you think having someone talk to Marianne would work? She’s a worrier, it might get her moving.”  
  
Other people’s problems were so much easier to solve. Annette could see the glaring issue in Ingrid’s plan. Ingrid was expecting everyone to act like her. If an expectation was set Ingrid would try to meet it at any cost. Marianne on the other hand, as far as Annette knew, was not so simple.  
  
Oh, saints, Dimitri and Marianne _also_ both bore crests. They might have the same trouble she was having. 

“I don’t think putting any additional pressure on Marianne is a good idea. Maybe someone closer to her could talk to her.” Annette added quickly, “Not about heirs. Only marriage. No need to scare her.”  
  
“Who doesn’t scare Marianne?” Felix asked. 

“Ashe?” Ingrid suggested.  
  
“Who is _married_ and doesn’t scare Marianne?” Felix amended. Ashe was lovely and encouraging to a fault, but he couldn’t encourage her down the aisle any more than Ingrid could. 

Ingrid paced a few more times around the room, mumbling through the short list of people Marianne let close to her, before finally settling on, “Hilda’s not married but she’d get excited about a wedding.” 

Annette spoke, feeling a plan emerge from the anxious murk of her mind, “She’s good at getting people to do things. We’re friends. I could ask her to come visit and we can explain the situation to her.”   
  
Felix blinked at her before hardening as he turned to Ingrid, “Will that placate you?” The dismissal was clear in his voice, not that Ingrid was going to bend to Felix’s whims.  
  
Ingrid nodded stiffly, “I’m doing this for everyone’s good.” She paused, looking over to Felix who seemed to wordlessly communicate something that Annette couldn’t catch, “I’ll see you both at dinner.”  
  
She left without ceremony, closing the door gently behind. 

Felix flopped onto their bed, still fully dressed as soon as Ingrid left. He pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his frustrated groan. They were all happy to live in peacetime, no one would dare wish for war again, but Felix so clearly hated battling with diplomacy and social pressure.  
  
Even so, she was proud of him for seeing some reason on Ingrid’s point. Not that she’d caught the actual killing blow, too absorbed in her own thoughts. Hilda was a good ally for this battle. It was a better solution than Felix badgering Dimitri into getting married.  
  
“So what convinced you?” Annette asked, still curious at whatever logic she’d missed. Felix was reasonable but he could fight with Ingrid in circles just for the sport of it- they were truly like siblings sometimes. 

  
“Huh?” Felix turned his head to face her and Annette approached, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. His hair was an absolute mess, half out of its tie and she reached out to brush through it gently with her fingers. 

“You came over to Ingrid’s side in the end. What did she say to convince you?”  
  
Felix raised an eyebrow, “You were having a panic attack and I wanted her to leave so I started agreeing.” He said flatly, warm eyes examining her face. 

Annette recoiled, “I was what?” He wasn’t wrong but she’d been able to focus back on Marianne and Dimitri and out of her own issues. She didn’t realize he’d noticed. 

  
He’d agreed with Ingrid to protect her, to give her room and space.  
  
Felix didn’t accept her denial, reaching out and laying a comforting hand on her thigh, “Annette.” She stared up at the ceiling, hoping desperately to stay calm as he asked, “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”  
  
“No I…” She didn’t. If she said her anxieties aloud they’d be real. There would be a problem. There already was one. He’d said it himself, he had no heir. Annette’s voice lowered to a painful hush, “You know. Clearly. I didn’t realize you knew.”  
  
“Knew what?” Felix asked, his voice not betraying the seriousness of his question. He sometimes used his own obliviousness as a tool to get her to admit her feelings, though occasionally he truly did miss things. 

He wasn’t playing a game with her, this was too serious.  
  
“That I… our...” the words caught in her throat painfully. Everyone knew, of course. Anyone could count, know how much time had passed, see how clearly she failed. It didn’t matter if it was their crests or they were too stained from war, or the goddess was just withholding joy for her own amusement. It didn’t matter that Annette longed for motherhood and they were _trying_.  
  
The truth remained the same, too horrible to admit. They had no heir. She was a failure.  
  
Felix gripped her chin gently, bringing her face up to his, “Annette I’m not going to become king. It’s not ever going to come to that.”  
  
“What?” Annette blinked, sure she’d misheard him.  
  
Felix’s mouth tightened into a line and he said deadly serious, “Dimitri is not going to die. Everyone is panicking about nothing. We should all be satisfied that there’s nothing to worry about, for once.” 

Laughter, loud and uncontrollable filled the room. Felix’s face dropped as Annette began to clutch her sides, shaking from the absolute absurdity of her husband’s comment. Something about the person who understands you best in the world getting ninety percent there but missing the point by such a margin was just so funny.  
  


It was just like Felix to know she was upset even as she tried to hide it, without understanding the _why_ at all. It didn’t really matter if he understood. He acted the same, giving her space, getting Ingrid out, trying to reassure her, make her feel safe.  
  
Her husband was so wonderful and so, so dense. 

“That’s not what’s on your mind, is it?” He mumbled, shifting a little in mild embarrassment as the tips of his ears started reddening.  
  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not laughing at you I only…” Her emotions ran too high, the shock brought on the laughter, “I love you so much Felix.” 

“Well that’s good.” He pulled her to join him on the bed completely, and Annette laid with her ear to his chest, listening to his steady heart beat as she tried to center her thoughts.  
  
He was giving her space to talk, or not. She couldn’t even begin to explain, but the laughter felt good, she worked off some of the nervousness.  
  
A detail stuck out in her mind as an entry point. Facts and theories were leagues more comfortable than absolutes, failures.  
  
“Did you know it’s harder for couples with two crests to have children?” Annette asked, trying to present the information casually even as it sat like a brick on her chest.  
  
“No.” Felix answered. He looked down at her, perched on his chest, “Where did you hear that?”  
  
“Linhardt.” That could be it. She could leave it at that, let Felix draw his own conclusions. But something about his evenness made her feel brave enough to admit, “He says that’s why it’s not very common for crested couples to have lots of children, and double crested couples to marry at all.” 

Felix considered this information, answering simply, “He’d know, I guess.” 

They laid together, as Annette let Felix work out the pieces. She didn’t want to have to be the one to say it. Felix’s priorities were so messed up that if she said her fears he’d talk about solutions, reassure her, declare it not a problem when it was so obviously a problem. 

He knew he didn’t have an heir.  
  
If she let him speak first, he might actually say how he felt. 

“Glenn was five years older than me.” Felix said quietly, staring at the ceiling once again. “Miklan was much older than Sylvain too. Ingrid is the only family I know with a half dozen children and neither of her parents has a crest. No one ever told me that, but I guess it makes sense.”  
  
Annette nodded, letting him continue his thought. 

Felix rubbed small circles on her back, calm and steady, “I don’t really care if it’s going to be more difficult. When have we ever been afraid of something difficult?”  
  
“It’s been over a year Felix. What if I’m-”  
  
He interrupted, “A year is nothing. And I’m truly not opposed to trying more if that’s what you’re suggesting.” And he had the gall to smile at her and look _so_ handsome and devilish. That villain. 

  
She could drop it, smile, make a little joke about trying and escape into him. Her heart wasn’t in it though. Not at all.  
  
She’d been jealous and sad and cruel for weeks, for what? Because the world knew what she was too afraid to admit?  
  


Annette rolled off of him, curling up into a ball on the edge of the bed. How dare he act reasonable? It was so much more complicated than that. It was easy for him to act like there was no problem.  
  
“What if I can’t at all? They’re already talking. What will everyone say about me in ten years? That I can’t, that I’m a failure.” Annette knew what happened to wives who were barren. Someone younger, more appropriate, less crested, would be brought in- for the good of everyone.  
  
“We.” Felix said quietly. 

Annette frowned, “What?” 

Felix sounded almost annoyed, “Stop saying I, there’s two of us. We.”  
  
He was taking responsibility, for something that wasn’t his fault.

He was sharing responsibility for something that wasn’t either of their faults. 

Her crest wasn’t the only one. She wasn’t the only one. 

Then Annette started crying in earnest, “Felix what if we can’t have children.”  
  
Normally emotions like this would make her want to run, but she only shifted further back desperate for his answer. **  
**  
Felix curled around her reassuringly, “If we can’t we can’t. There are other ways to have a family.”  
  
Not for people like them, “But they need your crest to inherit Felix.”  
  
Felix sighed, “Do you know how many distinct crested lines of Fraldarius there are?”  
  
She did. “Four.” Felix’s great grandparents had _four_ sons with major crests- it was heralded as a miracle at the time. No wonder. 

He spoke into her hair, “Why would I care if our child inherits or not? There will always be some other Fraldarius to lift the shield.” She could hear him smile as he said, “I’d have much more fun teaching them fighting than how to negotiate tithes.”  
  
She laughed, just a little, as her mind filled in a picture of him playing toy swords with a child, “You’re the strangest man in Fodlan.”  
  
He snorted, “Probably.”  
  
Not facing him was easier, even as truth settled over the space. Felix wasn’t going to get rid of her. She knew that all along, deep down. It felt better to hear him say it. He hadn’t dismissed her feelings- hadn’t even denied the facts.  
  
Felix always went to the most straightforward solution. He wasn’t always as smart as her, but his practicality and unwillingness to honor ceremony gave him the perspective to make her feel better when she was too caught up in the right way to do something. 

“I’m still scared that we can’t have children.” She admitted, pressing her face into his chest.  
  
His hands began stroking down her back, “Okay. Does it make you feel better that I’m not?” 

The honesty felt good, as if the weight of the secret she was holding was easier to carry with his help. “A little.” 

“Then I’ll keep telling you. And we’ll keep trying.”  
  
“That sounds good.” 

It did. 

* * *

Her courses came on time the next moon. It felt marginally less disappointing but still she returned to their bedchamber with a cloud over her head.  
  
Failure, once again. She sighed miserably, and climbed back into bed.  
  
“What happened?” Felix asked, pulling on his favorite boots for fencing.  
  
“I’m not pregnant.” Annette said quietly, deciding that she’d let herself feel bad for exactly one hour. Then she’d begin her day. 

  
“Oh.” He frowned and stared at her for a moment, “Do you want to go for a walk?”  
  
“Why?” Annette asked, preparing to pull the covers back over her head to escape his scrutiny. His concern could take any number of forms but he constantly tried to fix things when she just wanted to feel.  
  
Felix gave her a little look, “Because you like them?” 

“Oh. Well.” Annette felt oddly touched at his gesture, but her eyes fell to the swords he’d already strapped to his waist. “You have training.” 

“I’ll skip it.” 

“Why?” Annette asked, half worried he was sick or injured. 

  
“Because you’re sad.” He turned towards the window, “And I’m- We’re in this together.” Felix’s tone was soft and a bit melancholy. Annette looked at his face out of the corner of her eye and realized what he’d skipped.  
  


As gently as she could she said, “You can be sad about it too, if you want.” 

“I don’t want to be sad.” His face told her that it didn’t matter how he wanted to feel. 

She sat up, pulling the covers down, “Me either.”  
  
They walked in comfortable, if not slightly melancholy silence towards the shore. The fog was rolling in off the coast, and while it was bitterly cold and wet something about the weather felt almost comforting. Felix stared out of the ocean and half mumbled, “We should go to Enbarr.”  
  
Annette whipped her head to look at him, deeply confused, “What?” 

Felix continued, barreling over her shock, “The opera season starts soon. We should go.” 

Annette truly did not understand this whim, it wasn’t like Felix to have whims. “We have responsibilities.”  
  
He shrugged, “We have a steward for that. Let’s take advantage of our freedom while we still have it.”  
  
Oh. He was trying to make her feel better. Trying to make this all a little easier.  
  
Annette loved her husband, she truly did. “Okay. Yes. Let’s go to Enbarr.”

* * *

Sylvain Gautier, damn him, did some math at the birth of their first child. He held Louisa for a blissful thirty seconds before he was miserably bored with the sleeping child and started needling both of them for _details._

Sylvain’s lips curved up into a knowing smile, “Wait didn’t you go see _The Goddess Tower Rose_ last spring?”  
  
Annette gaped, and then blushed furiously as she mumbled, “Yes.”  
  
It spread like wildfire and Felix eventually took to threatening anyone who even _mentioned_ the opera in his presence.  
  
She denied nothing, so grateful that for once the gossip was harmless and maybe even a little funny. 

So, so grateful. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Final note: The Goddess Tower Rose was a flop, for what it was worth. It was quickly replaced by The Passion of Saint Cethleann which closed under mysterious circumstances and was then replaced by a pared down production of Brigid Nights.


End file.
